He said, she said

Picture an open-plan kitchen/dining area. A mother sits at the table, turning to drink. A boy and girl run around, sometimes playing, mostly bickering.
Imagine the girl suddenly pulls up short and, hands pressed to the side of her head, she lets out a piercing shriek.
"Nobody understands me! But, only the triangles do."

Another scene: a mother is driving, two children in the back. A boy is screaming and crying. A girl is yelling at him to be quiet: "You're hurting my ears!"
The mother agrees to buy popadums, but only if the boy stops screaming.
"There's no way I can take you to the shops like this."
And, suddenly, the boy falls quiet and his tears stop.
"OK."
The mother congratulates the boy on his emotional regulation (wondering all the while why he couldn't have just done that 10 minutes earlier).
"Yes, mummy, I just figured it out. If I stop making noise and then wipe my tears away, I feel better."
"No you don't, because everyone has to be sad."
The mother tries to ignore the ensuing argument about whether or not the boy is happy.

Now: the mother elsewhere, two children are watching television.
"I like Peter Rabbit, because it teaches you what to do if you have enemies."

You make scarecrows out of their clothes.

Laying down the law

My children do not suffer from identity crises, nor do they have any problem perceiving their place in the world.

Boy: I am Boss #1, and Girl is Boss #2.
Dad: Does that mean we're Bosses # 3 and 4.
Boy: Nooooo! You're our slaves.
Dad: Which is Slave #1 and 2?
Boy: Well.... Mummy is Slave #1.
Me: Girl, am I your mummy or a slave?
Girl: [smiling sweetly] You're my slave, mummy.

I'm assuming that Slave #1 is the person responsible for the bulk of the slaving that goes on around here.

Boy has the makings of a sociopathic supreme leader. Nothing is ever his fault. Everything should be precisely as he wants it. Everyone else in the entire English-speaking world is wrong, you do so spell it bloons.

Girl's a bit more like the quirky dictator who sometimes indulges in benevolence. She finds everything hilarious and demands lots of cuddles, but then sometimes she gets angry and starts raging, which is funny for everyone else (though it won't be once she's in command of an actual firing squad).

What's love got to do with it?

Boy informed me yesterday that he likes me, sometimes, and sometimes he doesn't. But he doesn't love me. Because love means you really, really, really like someone, and he can't really, really, really like me when he sometimes doesn't like me.

I have suggested an alternate definition of love, one that is not necessarily incompatible with occasional dislike. He disagrees.

I got my mother's day card today. He has written: Lik(e) you.

The full intended message, which he didn't get finished, was:

Dear mum,
I like you and I don't like you. I don't love you.
Happy Mother's Day!

Love my Boy

Boy and I seem to be involved in some sort of parent-child tussle to see who is the boss. It's not a battle I want to indulge in, nor do I see the need in any case. But Boy, apparently, wants this. He complains constantly and incessantly about my dictatorial ways. He threatens to annoy me just as much as I annoy him. He critiques my decision making skills and tells me he hates me. He goes on and on and on and on. It's tiresome. I let it wash over me. I let him make as many decisions for himself as he sensibly can. I point out the flaws in his crazy schemes - now, really, there are still a great many things you need help with Boy. Do you think you can live alone just yet? When you're bigger.

He wants to escape - to live in space or under the ocean. He wants the house to take off, driven by the pure willpower of a 5 year old, to take him to new and exciting lands. He's constantly building vehicles of escape, but none of them ever work. And he's is frustrated and angry. And sometimes he throws himself at me, fists and spittle flying.

And he wants to be the boss of me. Do as I say! I don't care what you say. I don't care what you want.

Today, he was yelling at me to freeze.

No, I said. I don't want to.

You have to FREEZE!

No. I'm not going to do something just because you tell me to. I need a good reason.

You have to freeze because.... I want to give you a cuddle.

So I froze. And he came to me and cuddled me and said: I love you mummy.

The telltale heart

For Mother's Day I got a lovely, heart-felt card from Boy in which he wrote of his devotion to me. Specifically, he stated that he loved me because I made yummy food for him.

In a fit of pique, exasperated once again at my abysmal dinner-time record - I'm just fed up with your food Mummy! - he confessed the following:

You know how I said in my card that I loved you because you made me yummy food? Well I only said that because I couldn't think of anything else.

Fabulous.

The good news is that he does still love me. He just genuinely couldn't think of any reason. And still can't.

I think that's fair enough, really.

Would I lie to you?

I witnessed Boy riding his tricycle into Justababy the other day. It was quite deliberate - not only was he giggling, but he reversed up a bit and rode back into her a couple of times before I could get there.

So the tricycle went up in the wardrobe and there was much wailing and angry crying.

I decided to talk to Boy about it when he demanded his trike back.

Me: What were you doing with your bike?
Boy: NOTHING!
Me: I saw you riding into your sister with it.
Boy: Well it was just an accident!
Me: I don't think it was an accident, really.
Boy: Well I just couldn't see where I was going.

I read somewhere that kids develop the ability to lie around the age of 5 or so. We we have a big 'check' for that developmental milestone at just shy of four and a half.

Me: I think you're telling me lies. You know, we don't tell each other lies?*
Boy: Why don't we?
Me: Because we love each other, so we tell each other the truth.**
Boy: We we do tell each other lies because we hate each other.

Mkay.


*This is manifestly untrue in light of the proceeding conversation, of course.
**Lame?

The sins of the father

I'm a bit of a duffer because I have got duffer DNA from daddy.

Fat dadda

Daddy was sitting at the computer when Boy approached.

Boy: Daddy.... What is your chest fat doing there?! [pointing to the place where Daddy met the computer desk*]
Daddy: That's not my chest.... I do have a big belly, though. I should exercise more.
Boy: [looks thoughtful for a moment] Yes. You should exercise more.


*Daddy is quite certain his belly was not touching the desk. There was at least a millimetre of t-shirt fold in between.

Mummy meanest

This happened quite some time ago, before Boy could talk quite so well..

My brother was visiting - let's call him Uncle P - he comes and goes a fair bit. One day he popped his head round the doorway and said "I've done something a bit silly"... He then produced a small animal cage.
I thought: ****!! He's bought a dog. (He'd threatened to before, and once called from the pet store - barking dogs in background - saying "I'm going to do it!").

But no. It was worse.

He'd bought a ferret. (I'm not keen on ferrets, are you? Apparently some people like them.)

Anyway, he then disappeared off to work somewhere for a few weeks. After a day or two, it occurred to me that perhaps I should feed the ferret something. I didn't know what ferrets eat and rather than consulting google, I thought: Maybe they like cat food. I know it's palatable to dogs and cockroaches at least.

As Boy was keen to be helpful and just getting the gist of following instructions I asked him to go round the corner to the kitchen and bring me back 2 pieces of cat food. (He could count to 2 - so proud!)

Well I heard some rustling in the cat bowl, then he reappeared around the corner... with nothing in his hand. But he did have a rather odd expression on his face - something like a cross between Ugh and Why-would-my-mummy-do-this-to-me?.

He was swishing something around in his mouth.

......

Poor love must have thought I was a very mean mummy telling him to eat cat food. I pulled the biscuits out and reassured him that I didn't really want him eating it. I asked if he liked it and got an emphatic No for answer.

He did correctly pick up two pieces though. :D

I'm a lego girl, in a lego world...

... life's fantastic, strapped to a tractor

"Little Boy" is in the driver's seat and "Mummy" is, erm, riding shotgun.

The tell-tale Boy

Boy recently spent a few nights with his grandparents. When we got there, his grandma asked him if he'd like to stay with her.
Oh yes, he said, then I won't get yelled at.

At least he knows better than to tell her about the beatings.

Terms of endearment

'You're not clumsy daddy, you're just big and heavy'

That's practically a compliment.

'Move your big, heavy bottom please mummy'

At least he said please

'Let's laugh at daddy. He's being silly'

Fair cop

'Your hair looks like a lion mummy'

He may have a point

'There's a big froggie in the bed. Frog wants to sit on the log.
[ooof]
Mummy is a log. '

I wish I were a log sometimes

'No. Mummy not a man. Her haven't got a beard'

Oh. Isn't that sweet?

'I like mummy. My favourite lady in the whooooole world'

Naaawww